The Cowboy's Destiny

After a while, Buck lost track of who was who and where they came from—his mind on Destiny, wondering why she’d settled among such an old crowd.

“Thought you’d be long gone by now.” Mitchell appeared out of nowhere, wearing Bermuda shorts and a Tommy Bahama shirt. Melba excused herself to talk to one of her tenants about a problem with their septic.

“The axel on my truck was damaged. I’m stuck here longer than I planned,” Buck said.

“While you’re here maybe you can talk sense into Destiny.”

“Talk sense into me about what?” Destiny stopped at Buck’s side.

Wow. Buck’s mouth dropped open. Destiny wore a black bikini with little white skulls and crossbones printed on the fabric. She’d pinned her long red hair to her head in a sloppy knot that begged for a man to stick his fingers in it and mess it up some more. His gaze roamed over her body, pausing on her breasts, where part of a tattoo peeked out from beneath the swimsuit top. As he stared down at all that sexiness crammed into a tiny body, he couldn’t recall why he preferred taller women.

“Ms. Mayor,” Mitchell said. Buck noticed the lawyer appeared oblivious to Destiny’s hotness. Idiot. “Why don’t you ask Buck to weigh in on the town’s situation? A stranger’s perspective might be helpful.”

“Or better yet,” Destiny said, “Maybe Buck can convince the recalled mayor to get the heck out of town and stay out?” Then she turned to Buck and said, “Take off your boots. You look ridiculous.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Buck sat in a lawn chair and removed his Ariats and socks then stood. When he noticed Destiny ogling his legs, he suddenly wished his trunks weren’t so snug.

Mitchell stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “I need everyone’s attention.” Once the Geritol crowd settled down, he said, “Jack Custer has put forth a new offer.”

Destiny ground her back teeth together to keep from pushing Mitchell into the pool. Damn him for using the party—an event intended to bring the town together—as a means to divide the residents.

“How much is he willing to pay us this time?” Frank shouted above the rumblings.

“Wyndell Resorts is prepared to pay each resident of Lizard Gulch $80,000 for their property.”

Destiny scoffed. “That’s only $5,000 more than the previous offer.”

“Eighty thousand dollars is a lot of money,” a woman in a swim cap covered in daisies said. “I could use the cash to move my home down south to my daughter’s property, and I’d have plenty left over to buy a new car.”

“That’s right,” Mitchell said. “The money would improve everyone’s standard of living.”

“There ain’t nothing wrong with my standard of living.” Bernie paddled his dolphin across the water and clung to the edge of the pool next to where Mitchell stood.

“What’s going on?” Buck asked.

Destiny had hoped he wouldn’t stick his nose into their business. The last thing she needed was a stranger swaying the town to take the developer’s side. “A group of wealthy investors wants to buy Lizard Gulch, bulldoze the town and build a resort in its place.”

“Lizard Gulch is in the middle of nowhere.” Buck frowned at Mitchell.

“Ever see the movie Field of Dreams?” Mitchell asked.

“Build it and they will come?” Buck said. “That’s what you’re banking on?”

“Route 66 properties draw thousands of vacationers each year. Jack Custer studied this area and it’s close enough to California that people will view an all-inclusive resort as a great weekend getaway.”

“There wouldn’t be much for resort guests to do if they don’t play golf,” Buck said.

Mitchell ignored Buck’s comment and spoke to the group. “You’ve got one month to decide whether or not to take the new offer.”

“What happens if we can’t agree to sell or not?” Melba asked.

“You know that I consider you my friends,” Mitchell said.

Destiny choked on her spit.

“When I was mayor I had to comply with state guidelines and submit answers to a questionnaire.”

“What kind of questionnaire?” Destiny asked.

“I had to inform state officials that you haven’t had the water well tested in fifteen years,” Mitchell said.

“I’ve been drinking tap water for twenty years and I haven’t gotten sick or died.” Bernie cupped his hands in the water and directed a wave of it at Mitchell, who was forced to jump back to avoid getting his shorts wet.

“I also had to disclose to the state that none of you pay property taxes.”

“Are you crazy?” Destiny spread her arms wide. “We don’t pay taxes, because we don’t use any fire or police services.”

“And you have no place for children to go to school,” Mitchell said.

The lawyer was grasping at straws. “Do you see any residents of child-bearing age?”

“Just you.”

Destiny sucked in a quiet gasp. Had Daryl leaked that she was pregnant?

Mitchell raised his margarita glass. “A toast to becoming $80,000 richer.”

“Destiny?”

Someone spoke her name then an arm curled around her waist, and the next thing she knew she was seated in a chair with Buck squatting in front of her. “You okay? You looked like you were about to faint.”

“I’m a little thirsty.”

Melba handed her a margarita.

“I’d rather have water, please.”

Buck handed her a bottled water and filled a plate with chunks of watermelon and pineapple.

“Buck.”

“Destiny.”

They spoke at the same time. “You go first,” she said.

“Is there anything I could do to help you at the garage while I wait on the new axel?”

“About that broken axel. There’s something I need to tell you.” She stopped short when Buck leaned forward, the golden glow in his brown eyes sending her pulse pounding through her veins.